The Face of Evil
by meixel
Summary: An evil serial killer returns decades later to haunt Mike. The madman resumes the slaughter of young women as Mike and Steve race against the clock to stop him. To make things worse, Mike must standby and watch his partner's emotional collapse as one of the killings hits their inner circle. Followed by The Grace of God. (Note: introduction of non-canon family member.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N -** Thanks to my SOSF buddies who greatly inspire. I do not own the characters. No profit is being made - just writing for fun and skill development.

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**April, 1951 - San Francisco**

For a period of time, terror became commonplace in the exclusive neighborhood of Pacific Heights.

Evil took the form of one Bernard King IV, a thirty three-year-old trust fund baby who lived in the carriage house of his father's elegant mansion near Van Ness. Reclusive in nature, Bernie King was largely ignored since he chose not to be a part of the family's shipping business, King-Crest Shipping.

When not alone in the carriage house, King wondered the pathways of the nearby parks. Every so often, he would zero in on a woman alone or with a small child. Always a social outcast, at first, King simply followed the women at such a distance that they never knew he was behind them.

He then became intrigued by the idea that he could learn so much about these women by watching their habits. Soon he was confident enough to track their habits by observing their every move from a hidden spot near their home. He began to fantasize what it would be like to break into one of these women's home and overpower her. That thought soon became his obsession.

On rare occasion he would indulge himself on the north side of the Mission District finding a call girl that fit the general description of his fantasy. At first the fantasy was only about the type of woman - young, blonde and petite. Then he began acting out his aggression with the call girl. He became forceful and rough. One more than one occasion, the call girl fled King.

This downward spiral continued for months until he finally crossed the line. His first victim was a 22 year old prostitute. He took her to a hotel room, where she eagerly gave more than his money's worth. He paid her with a quick slash across the throat. Her name was Susan Sheldon. Miss Sheldon's body was found stuffed in a large trash liner in the room's closet. Curiously, there was no blood outside of the bag and the body was not discovered for several days.

The second victim was of the Pacific Heights neighborhood, a 27 year old new mother by the name of Patrice Wilkins. King had followed Wilkins home and observed the family's habits. Her husband worked and didn't come home until 7pm each evening. One afternoon, King broke into the home, raped Mrs. Wilkins and sliced her throat. Again, the body was found in a large trash liner in the corner of the room. King could hear the 2 year old child crying in a nearby bedroom as he was leaving.

Two of the three remaining victims met similar fates in Pacific Heights; the third in the Mission District. Jolynn Thompson, age 24 and Marcia Hartman, age 28 were killed in their homes. Jenni Van Horn, age 25, was killed at the same seedy hotel as Susan Sheldon. All young, petite blonde women raped and slaughtered. All found in large trash liners.

After nearly eighteen months of torment, the case was solved. A young Mike Stone was one of the police officers who cracked the murder case after linking the large trash liners to King-Crest Shipping. It was indeed this case which gave Mike a foot into the Homicide division, where he would eventually become the lead detective. The liners, which were only recently invented and commercialized, had limited industrial usage. It was solid detective work that lead to the arrest and conviction of one Bernard King IV.

Pacific Heights could sleep peacefully for many years to come, but it all came to an end in 1973.

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**April 1973, San Francisco**

Lieutenant Mike Stone and his young partner, Inspector Steven Keller left the courthouse after the verdict was read in a domestic murder case. They had made the arrest months before - a jealous husband killed his wife after she had been seen talking to a man at a nearby bar. The homicide and resulting conviction left two young children without parental care. The children were sent to live with relatives back east.

Steve sighed as they walked down the steps of the courthouse.

"What's the matter, Buddy boy?" the older partner inquired.

"Oh, I dunno. That was a tough case - a woman killed for no other apparent reason than talking to a man. Two children are left orphaned and a jealous man will likely spend the rest of his life in prison. Nothing good came out of that. Not that it ever does, but when kids are involved, it just seems so much harder."

"Pride comes before the fall."

"Huh? What do you mean?" the young man asked.

"Pride is one of the seven deadly sins. A woman becomes a possession of a man like that. After awhile he views her only as an object. I believe you call it 'arm candy'. He's proud of her, but not in a good way. Every move she makes he starts to scrutinize. He tries to control her and then the violence begins."

"Why couldn't he have thought of his kids, though? I mean…," Steve began and then he stopped.

Mike didn't realize what caught Steve off guard. "What's the matter?"

Coming down the sidewalk was an old girlfriend, Connie Mathers. Steve shook himself back to reality. "Oh, nothing. I just didn't expect to see Connie here, that's all."

Connie smiled and waved at Steve. "Hi, Steve. Just leaving the courthouse? I heard about the trial," she mentioned. Noticing Mike, she acknowledged, "Oh, Mike, hello!"

Mike nodded and smiled.

"Yes - we heard the verdict. What brings you down to this area?" Steve asked as he twitched his head slightly. Mike learned long ago that particular body language meant that his young friend was not comfortable.

"I'm interviewing Judge Smithson. She's been voted one of the Top Ten Influential Women in the Bay Area this year."

"Oh, how nice for her." After a moment, Steve awkwardly asked, "It's been a while, everything going okay at the paper?"

"Yes, I'm doing well." Connie looked down at her watch. "I need to run, but let's catch up some time." She impulsively kissed the detective on the cheek and walked on.

"Sure," the detective replied.

Mike smirked. "I have never seen you so nervous before. I thought _you_ broke up with _her."_

"I did," he replied as he looked down.

"Looks to me that you might be having second thoughts, Buddy boy." Mike continued his grin.

"Don't we have reports to write or something?" the annoyed junior detective asked as he tossed Mike the keys. "Here, you drive."

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**That same day…in Pacific Heights**

Bobby Nelson was playing in his backyard in his home near Van Ness. The five year old was busy making mudpies using his mother's hat box. He worked hard layering the mud, grass, leaves and sticks. Used small pebbles as the nut topping.

Over the fence, a haggard middle aged man looked at the small boy. The boy caught his glance and was afraid. He got up and ran into the house, "Mommy!"

Bobby's mom walked out into the backyard and saw that no one was there. Still, she told Bobby to stay inside for the afternoon just to be safe.

Bernie hid on the other side of the fence and slowly made his way down the alley which led him to the carriage house he inhabited all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Bernie came back to only the home he knew before his incarceration. His father had long since passed away, but his mother still stayed at the mansion. When Bernie appeared at the front door, Mrs. King greeted him with open arms. While she had missed her son, she did not have much contact in prison with him until after her husband died. She missed her husband and realized that Bernie was that connection to her past. She welcomed any opportunity that brought back memories of her youth.

Truth be told, she was quite influential during his parole board hearing. Very little publicity occurred around the hearing. She had managed to hire the best psychiatrists money could buy to render the opinion that Bernie had reformed. He had been sentenced to life, but became eligible for parole after twenty years.

The carriage house remained the same as when he left. He settled in quickly, but in no time he was itching to get back out roaming the neighborhood. But, so much had changed in the last two decades. He was barely recognizable - by age and by design. He wanted no one to know that he was there. If the surviving neighbors knew of his return, it would not go well for him. For all anyone knew, he was just a new resident in the neighborhood.

Bernie walked down by the Nelson house. He found a park bench nearby and brought with him a paper to read. He decided he would make a note of Mrs. Nelson's schedule. He saw her when Bobby became frightened. She was pretty, petite and blonde. His sick desires were rekindled.

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**Two weeks later**

Steve pulled to the curb of Connie's parents' home. He was on time to pick her up for a dinner date. After their brief encounter near the courthouse, he simply could not get her out of his mind. Perhaps Mike was right: perhaps he was having second thoughts about the break up.

Steve rang the door and looked around, a nervous, but appropriate habit for a cop. _Pacific Heights is such a nice neighborhood,_ he thought to himself. As he looked around, he saw the beautifully maintained homes and nicely sculpted lawns. He looked down the street and saw joggers and people walking their dogs. Not far away, a man on a bench read a newspaper.

As Steve waited, he remembered why he broke it off with Connie several months earlier. She was afraid his work would cause him to lose touch with his humanity. She feared that he would not be able to understand that good people do bad things. Sometimes crime was the effect that a different problem caused. And while her whole line of reasoning was a concern for him, it wasn't the real reason they split.

The reality was that he couldn't afford the lifestyle to which Connie was accustomed. Her family, in their brief meetings, were only too quick to point that out. He had no wealth and no prominent bloodline. There was nothing material for him to offer. And while he knew that _shouldn't_ matter, he knew that it did. Perhaps not so much with Connie, but certainly it mattered to her family.

After a few more minutes, Connie's father answered the door. "Officer Keller, yes, please come on in," he said politely. "Connie will be down in a moment."

"Thank you, Sir," Steve replied.

"I was surprised to hear that Connie had a date with you this evening. After all, she had mentioned that you two had broken off."

"Yes, sir. Connie and I saw each other in passing the other day and decided it would be nice to have dinner. We hadn't talked in some time."

"I see. Well, where are you taking my daughter? I would imagine on a cop's salary, that you won't be dining on lobster at Chez Paris," the older man chuckled.

"No, sir. But there's a nice place over in Sausalito that just opened up. Italian." Steve wanted to add, _Cops can afford spaghetti and money apparently doesn't buy common courtesy. _

At that point, Connie came down the steps, looking lovely in a new spring dress. One look and she took his breath away. He noticed that the light color brought out the blue in her eyes. Steve smiled and looked down.

"We'll be on our way, Professor Mathers."

"Get her home at a decent hour. Connie will be accompanying Mrs. Mathers and me to the club for a charity event first thing in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

As they walked to Steve's Porsche, the man on the bench had decided to walk down the block. As he passed Steve and Connie on the opposite side of the street, he noticed the pretty blonde on the arm of the handsome young man.

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As Bernie circled the block, he saw Mrs. Nelson and Bobby parking in their driveway. He continued until he found a vantage point that would allow him to view what Mrs. Nelson was doing. Bobby ran into the yard and started playing with his kickball. The mother unloaded groceries and took them into the house. There was no sign of the husband - he would not be home for one or two hours.

King looked around to see if there was anyone in the street. Not seeing a soul, he walked around the side of the house and found a window slightly ajar. He thought for a moment before he entered. He wanted to stop himself, but he couldn't Instead, he checked to see that he had a knife, rope and cloth for a gag. He also had his gloves which would hide the fingerprints.

His M.O. last time was slashing and dumping the body in an industrial trash liner. He knew that if he were to do that again, his house would be the first the police would check. He reasoned that if make the crime look different, the police would not suspect him - or at least he could plea that while someone else was killing to make him look suspicious, it was not being done the way he had done it in the past.

Mrs. Nelson walked down the hallway toward the bathroom. She heard a creaking noise from the spare bedroom.

"Bobby, I told you not to play in here," she said as she walked in.

The door shut behind her. "Mrs. Nelson, Bobby will be fine. I promise I won't hurt him."

She spun around in terror and tried to scream but he grabbed her quickly and threw her on the floor. At that point he stuffed the gag in her mouth. All she could feel were his hands around her neck as he choked the life out of her. Her last thoughts were of Bobby.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Next Morning**

Steve woke up with a jolt. He forgot to set the alarm and knew he couldn't sleep in. He checked the clock and was relieved to see that it was only ten minutes after six.

He lay back and began thinking about the prior evening. The dinner date had worked out well, much to his relief. He had decided to take it carefully with Connie this time around. If they were to try for something long term, he wanted to make certain that it was the right thing.

Steve had waited nearly a week after their meeting outside of the courthouse to call her. They talked a few times and then he finally suggested they meet the following Friday for dinner. When he picked her up at her parents' home last night, he was quickly reminded of her beauty and of why he was attracted to her at the beginning. There was just _something_ there. _Something _made him think of her constantly. _Something _made him melt at first sight.

Sure, he had doubts, but he was beginning to convince himself that it would be worth the try.

He continued to think about Connie and wondered what the future could hold. He would make no quick decisions. Instead, he wanted to spend the time to get to know her all over. They had so many dates where they talked for hours. He wanted to have that again. To talk and to laugh. To love and to hold...

He stopped for a moment and smiled. Slowly, he rolled over and stroked the back of the sleeping form next to him. He felt her arm and shoulder, kissing her gently as he worked his way up to her neck. She rolled over and smiled. Her arms reached around him and embraced him. "Good morning," she sighed. She drew his face down to hers and parted her lips slightly. Side by side, their morning kiss was warm and lasted minutes.

He looked at the clock, knowing that he had to get her back to her parents. While her father would kill him for keeping her out all night, she was a grown woman. They had stayed out all night before, so there shouldn't be any concern.

Still, Professor Mathers made him nervous. And Steve had promised to get her home for the charity event the Professor had mentioned. Steve intended to make good on that promise.

And of course, he needed to go into the station after taking Connie to Pacific Heights. It was not unusual for Mike and him to work Saturdays. Murders tended to happen on Friday and during the weekend, so it was part of the job.

_Since it's Saturday, morning traffic should be light_, Steve thought. _Perhaps we could steal away a few more minutes alone together before we drive back_.

And with that, he moved closer to her and kissed her again.

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There were three murders in the city the evening before. Mike wanted to get an early start. He thought he'd stop by Steve's apartment and rally him for the morning. It was nearly 7am and he expected that Steve would be still asleep or in some state of hazed confusion that seemed to occur the morning after one of his nights off.

_I don't normally let him off on Fridays, but I know that this date with Connie was important. He's been so preoccupied with that girl. I couldn't take much more of his brooding, _Mike thought to himself as he walked up the steps. _Maybe she is the 'one', though._

He paused at the landing as he heard Steve's door open. Steve appeared at the door fully ready for work. Mike was surprised.

"Mike, I didn't expect you here. I was on my way out. Everything okay?"

"Sure. It was busy last night, so I thought we could get an early start."

"Oh, yeah? What happened?"

"We had a couple of shootings. One was in the Mission District; another down by the Wharf. Then there was a third killing - looks like a possible domestic - in the Pacific Heights neighborhood."

"Pacific Heights?" Mike heard a woman's voice ask.

"Buddy boy, what's wrong with your voice?" Mike inquired dryly. From behind Steve, Connie appeared.

"Hi, Mike. Did you say Pacific Heights? That's where I live." Mike was amused and tried not to roll his eyes at the sight of Connie. _That d__idn't take too long, Buddy boy. _

"Yes, a possible domestic homicide. I wanted to go over there first thing and take a second look at the house."

Steve looked at Mike, "I need to take Connie home first."

"Well, since we're a little early for duty, I don't see a problem with her riding with us…if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, that works for me. Honey, you okay riding in an unmarked Ford Galaxy?" Steve cracked.

"As long as it's not a habit," she replied as she kissed Steve on the lips. "Let's go."

"Yes, perhaps with Mike here, your dad won't skin me alive for keeping you out all night."

"Always an ulterior motive with you, Buddy boy!"

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Steve walked Connie to her door and kissed her goodbye. Mike stayed in the car and pretended to look busy.

"I'll call you soon. Maybe we can do something next week?"

"Sure, Hon. Be careful," she said as she walked into the foyer and closed the door behind her.

"You, too," he replied with a wink.

As he entered the passenger side of the Ford, Steve caught Mike smiling.

"What?"

"Be sure to let me know when you need me to rent you a tux."

Steve's face reddened slightly. "Just drive."

Mike's attention turned to the murder case. "We aren't going too far…unfortunately, the murder was around the block from your girlfriend's."

As he pulled to the curb, he finished filling Steve in on the story. "Mrs. Cathy Nelson was found strangled and stabbed in the spare bedroom of her home. Her husband found her body. His hame is Garrett Nelson. Their five year old child was unharmed, but had been apparently left alone in the back yard for at least an hour."

"What did this Garrett Nelson have to say?"

"Just that he came home around 7pm and found the child in the backyard. It was getting dark and it was unusual for the boy to be by himself at that point."

"You said she was stabbed. Was it a knife?"

"Yes, a large one - maybe a kitchen knife. But she was also strangled. There was severe bruising around her neck. She may have been choked out and then stabbed."

"Was she raped or sexually assaulted?"

"Right now, we don't know. The autopsy is still being performed. Let's take another look around and also see if this husband remembers anything else," the older detective suggested.

"You said that you thought it might be domestic. Was there a reason for you to suspect the husband?"

"The husband's business is failing and they are having money troubles. The house is in her name, given to her by her parents. Now that she's dead, the house will be his to do with what he wishes."

"Ah. Well, let's hope for the sake of the son that it's not the case," Steve said, remembering the verdict they heard two weeks earlier. "I guess we won't know anything if we don't go in."

"The boy was sent to his grandparents. The husband should be here now. Let's go, Buddy boy."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Mike and Steve are doing what they do best...police work.

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"I didn't hurt my wife. I would never do such a thing. I loved her and both of us loved Bobby. I would never do anything to take his mother away from him," a distraught Garrett Nelson implored.

"All right, Mr. Nelson. Calm down," Mike replied. "I know that you are upset at what happened to your wife and it's very understandable. But is there anything you can tell us?"

Steve interjected, "Mr. Nelson, have there been any strange calls, anybody hanging around that you don't know? Have you had a workman over to the house?"

Nelson thought for a moment. "I don't know…maybe. There's always work to be done around here. In the last month, we've had the phone repairman and a plumber in."

"Okay, that's a start, sir. Did your wife keep an appointment book? Or perhaps a calendar?" Mike added.

"Yes, yes she did," Garrett Nelson looked hopeful.

"Then sir, perhaps you can provide us with a list of all your wife's known associates - friends, workmen, maybe even Bobby's friends parents. Anything at all. We're starting with a fresh slate here," Steve said.

"And Mr. Nelson, you do need to let us know your whereabouts yesterday. Any witnesses to your comings and goings? That will go a long way in removing any doubt around you."

"I understand."

Mike handed Mr. Nelson a card. "Please give us a call when you have the list ready. Please put some thought into it. I know it's very difficult now."

Steve added, "Mr. Nelson, if at any time you want to come down to the station and work with us there, just call. Now, sir, if you don't mind, may we look around? I'd like to see the room."

"Yes, this way," Garrett Nelson replied with a shaky voice.

Steve and Mike went to the spare room as Nelson stood in the doorway. Steve looked over to the window and asked if it was opened when he came home.

"It was not open, but it was not locked either. We've had some problems with that window sticking," Garrett Nelson thought for a moment. "Oh, Good God, if whoever it was got in through that window, I'll never forgive myself."

Mike looked grimly. "Well, we don't know anything yet, but we will have the boys from the lab come down and take prints of the window and also the outside sill."

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As they left Mr. Nelson, Steve noticed Mike was very quiet.

"What's wrong, Mike?"

"It's probably nothing."

"When you say it's probably nothing, then it's usually something."

"Get in the car and I'll tell you about it. Your turn to drive now."

As they made their way out of Pacific Heights, Mike began to remember the murders of more than twenty years earlier.

"Couldn't be," the older detective muttered.

"What?"

Mike sighed. "It was 1951. I was a black and white back then. I was older than you are now, but not by much. There was a murder in this area. A young mother of a 2 year old. She had been found with her throat slashed and stuffed in a garbage liner."

Steve looked over as he was driving. "Go on."

"We were able to link the murder to four others - two in the Mission District and two more in this area. The murderer was the reclusive son of a shipping magnate here. Have you heard of King-Crest Shipping?"

"Sure, I've seen their trucks and shipping containers. They go back over 100 years in this city."

"His name was Bernard King, IV. He was a creep. And I mean that it truest form of the word. He was slithery looking, his face reminded me of a snake. When my partner and I made the arrest, I will never forget the look he had."

"What was that?"

"His face was completely pale and his eyes were black. There was no life in him at all. He just looked at us blankly," Mike sighed again. "I always believed that everyone had a soul, but this man…this man, Steve, I don't know. I looked him in the face and it was the face of evil."

"What did he do when you caught up with him?"

"He just started muttering. He didn't put up a fight, but he babbled. It was like he had some sort of verbal manifesto he was reciting - but it didn't make any sense."

"So what happened to him?"

"He got life in prison."

"Okay, so it's probably not him. I can't believe they would let a guy out after killing five people after only twenty years."

"I don't know. I'm going to check when we get back to the station. I have a funny feeling about this, Buddy boy."

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Mike sat at his desk. He was awaiting a call from San Quentin. He wanted to confirm that King was still in prison.

Steve poked his head in the door. "You okay, you want some coffee?"

"Yeah, bring me a cup. Here," he said as he went for a dime.

"I got it, Mike, don't worry."

The phone rang as Steve was making the coffee. He could see the expression of Mike's face change from one of concern to one of utter rage and disbelief. He walked in and shut the door to Mike's office.

"What do you mean, he was released? He killed five women."

Steve could not understand what was being said on the other end of the line, so he had to settle for Mike's side of the conversation.

"I know that. Don't you think I remember that? It was a boneheaded move. I didn't like it then and I sure as hell don't like it now," Mike was shouting.

Steve sat in stunned silence. He did not like how this was sounding.

"Well, who's his PO? Can you tell me that? And what is his current address?"

Mike waited for the answers and then began to write. After he finished, he slammed the phone down hard.

"Damn!" he said as he walked over to the window, his back to his young partner.

Steve waited a minute and then inquired, "Mike, what is it? Is King out of prison?"

"He's out," Mike said as he ran his hand over his face. "He was released nearly three weeks ago. He's checked in with his PO and he lives at his parents' residence."

"Mike, I don't understand. How does a guy get out after twenty years after a serial killing spree. It just doesn't happen."

Mike paused for a moment, looking at Steve. "It happens when a deal is struck. King killed five women. We only got a conviction on one."

"What? How?"

"The first murder was actually at the Mission District. The woman's body was stuffed in a liner, but it wasn't the same type of liner as the others. I always thought that King got the idea of the liner at the hotel. He took one of theirs and then got the others from his family's business. But his attorney built a case against it. There was even an alibi. I never believed it.

The second murder was the one that had the conviction. The third murder was at the same hotel as the first - and because we couldn't make the first one stick, the DA disallowed the third. The other two murders at Pacific Heights - King's attorney was building a case for a copy cat killer. There was no other physical evidence except for the fact that liners were the same brand."

"Man…that's crazy."

"They made the deal - he'd confess to the 2nd murder, but the other charges would be dropped. That saved the cost of a big trial, saved the families from a lot of heartache and then it also put him away for "life". In this case we know that means twenty years."

"I'm surprised there wasn't public outcry."

"Well, that's the other side of the story, Steve. It was 1951, we were just entering another war. Nobody knew what that was going to be like. The community was already tense. The murders simply weren't publicized to the extent they would be today. And they really weren't linked together as a serial case. Whether it's right or wrong, the higher ups tended to keep a lid on things to protect people from knowing what was going on."

"Well, what do we do now?"

"We talk to King's PO first. And then maybe we'll talk to King."


	5. Chapter 5

Back at the station, Mike saw that he had a message from King's parole officer, Gary Larson. He returned the call.

"Gary, Stone. I understand that you are now the PO for Bernie King. What's his schedule? How often does he check in?"

Mike listened.

"Weekly, okay. Has he made his appointments?"

Mike took notes as Larson was speaking.

"Okay - we're keeping an eye on him. Yeah, it's a murder in his neighborhood. Somewhat similar to what he used to do. A young woman. Last name is Nelson. Keep me posted if he misses an appointment or acts otherwise suspicious. We're going over to his house now."

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Mike rode in silence as they drove over to the King home in Pacific Heights. All the time Steve drove, the older detective was lost in his thoughts. Mike was normally a rock and yet now he seemed unnerved by the idea of running into Bernie King again. But then again, who in their right mind would want to cross the path of a serial killer?

"You okay, Mike?" Steve asked as they parked in the circle driveway.

"I'm fine. Let's go in. Mrs. King is probably 80 years old now. I'm not sure how much she knows about what her son is doing or if she would acknowledge it if she did, so let's find out. We'll also ask to see him and the carriage house."

"We don't have a warrant to search. Do you think she'll let us in?"

"I don't know, Buddy boy. We'll soon find out."

Steve took some relief that Mike was more like his old self in that exchange.

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"Ma'am, my name is Lieutenant Mike Stone and this is my partner, Steve Keller. May we come in and ask you a few questions?"

The small white-haired woman harshly replied. "I remember you, young man. You were one of the officers that arrested my son all those years ago. What do you want now?" She did not allow them through the front door.

Steve glanced at Mike and interjected, "Ma'am, where was your son on Friday evening between the hours of 5pm and 7pm?"

"He was with me. We were having dinner." There was an air of defensiveness in her voice.

"Were you here at the home?"

"Yes."

"May I ask if you ordered in or did you prepare the dinner yourself?" the younger officer inquired.

"My goodness, what difference does it make?"

"If we need to confirm an alibi, it would be helpful to have a restaurant ticket."

The older woman nodded. "I cooked. We had chicken."

Mike joined in. "I understand that your son has been living in the carriage house since his release. Is that true?"

"Yes it is."

"May we speak to your son?" Mike asked kindly.

"He's not in."

"All right, then. Where is he?"

"I don't know. He's a grown man and he's able to take care of himself. I have not and will not be watching him every minute."

Steve reached into his jacket pocket and gave Mrs. King a card. "Mrs. King, please have him call us. It's important."

"I don't know what's happened, young man, but apparently something has. Are you and your friend going to show up on my doorstop every time there's a crime?"

Mike answered. "Mrs. King, there was a murder Friday evening. A young mother of a five year old. We are investigating all the options. With your son's history, the fact that he's newly released and the nature of the killing, it simply behooves us to ask questions."

"It's not fair. He did his time. You should not be harassing him."

Mike tried hard to contain his anger. "Your son served only twenty years - the women that he murdered gave up much more. Do you realize that they would all still be in their forties now? Barely halfway through with their lives even now."

Steve looked at Mike curiously.

"Officer, my son was convicted of one killing and for that he served his time. I will not have you harassing him. I am sorry that a young woman was murdered but I can assure you that it was not Bernie."

Before Mike could continue, Steve responded "Thank you, ma'am."

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A few blocks away, as Steve drove out of the neighborhood, Mike saw a man sitting on a bench reading a paper.

"Pull over."

"What?" Steve said and then saw where Mike was looking. "Is that him?"

Mike said nothing and exited the car.

As he walked, he began to see the similarities to the man he arrested twenty years ago. Mike felt a small shudder at the cold and pale face that was before him.

"King." Mike said as he got closer.

King looked up at Mike. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Mike Stone, I believe we met about twenty years ago under, let's say, 'unusual' circumstances."

King paused for a moment. "You were one of the cops that arrested me," he glanced over at Steve. "Who's the other guy - I know he wasn't around back then."

"No, he wasn't. This is Inspector Keller."

King stared at Steve and seemed to recognize him. The silence unnerved the young officer for a moment. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. King, where were you Friday night between 5 and 7pm?" Steve asked.

"I was home."

Mike responded. "Home, okay. Did anyone see you or talk to you while you were 'home'?"

"My mother. And I don't need to talk to you. If you have a beef with me, you need to be talking to my attorney. Get off my back. My commitment is with my PO and I'm meeting him every week."

"Mr. King," Steve said. "There was a serious crime committed Friday evening nearby. It had some of the same earmarks as some of your past activities. We have to ask these questions. If you had nothing to do with it, then it is in your best interested to cooperate."

Mike continued. "What were you doing at home?"

"I told you - I was with my mother. I was watching television. The news. We may have had something to eat - I don't remember."

"Did you go out?" Steve asked.

"We stayed in."

Hmmm…okay," Steve responded and then looked up as if to remember something. He then shook his head.

The action rattled King. "What? Did you speak to my mother? We don't have to answer you, you know. This is harassment. I did my time, and I'm not talking anymore."

Mike and Steve glanced at each other.

Mike finally responded, "Okay, King, but let's get one thing clear. We'll be watching you."


	6. Chapter 6

Back at the station, Mike glanced out of his office. Steve was on the phone at his desk. Mike watched as Steve was taking quick notes from the conversation. The expression on the inspector's face was solemn. As the younger man hung up the phone, he looked troubled and wiped his hand down his face. Mike got up and walked to his door.

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah, there is. That was Bill from the 2nd precinct. They just found a floater. ID'd as Garrett Nelson."

"Took a dive from the bridge?"

"Yeah. Distraught over his wife's death and his financial problems. He left a note in his car. It said that he was giving Bobby to her parents and expressed his regrets."

"Was there a confession?"

"No. Actually, he wrote about how he loved his wife and son, and how sorry he was about the bad business dealings. Apparently, there was something illegal going on. With the murder investigation, he felt like the walls were closing in on him."

"Just one day later."

"The poor kid," Steve said. "Five years old and an orphan. That's tough. I hope the grandparents do okay for him."

"Yeah, if he didn't kill his wife, then we'll find out who did. That kid's life just went into a tailspin," Mike said as he shook his head.

"You don't think it was Nelson, do you?"

"No, Buddy boy, I don't. I just have a bad feeling about this. We need to keep an eye on King."

**Sunday**

"So you made it on time to that charity event your dad was talking about?" Steve asked as he juggled the phone while breaking apart sunflower seeds on his bed.

"Yes, no problems," Connie replied on the other end of the line. Steve could hear the smile in her voice and it had a soothing effect.

"Were your folks upset that we were together?"

"Not really. I mean they aren't impressed with me when I stay over, but they don't say much about it. I'm a grown woman, Steve."

"You don't have to tell me, babe." Steve paused for a moment.

"Is something wrong?"

"Connie, I just want you to be careful. The homicide that we're working on your area, it's not clear what's going on. We thought it might be a domestic dispute, but there's also someone in your area that was recently released from prison. He may be dangerous."

"Tell me more."

"The guy that was released from prison - he only served twenty years of a life sentence. Apparently they convicted him on one count of murder, but had him linked to several others. He's out and he lives near you."

"Well, that's not good to hear. What did he do?"

"He went after women, Connie. All young petite women."

"Just randomly?"

"Apparently. Mike was one of the arresting officers over twenty years ago. We questioned the guy today. He's a real piece of work. One good thing is that he knows we're watching him."

"But what about the woman that died?"

"Her husband was very distraught. He may have also been over his head in some business dealings. Anyway, he jumped off the bridge today."

"Oh, my."

"We just don't have any physical evidence to link anyone. Not the husband and not the ex-con. Like I said, Connie, please be careful. We don't know what has happened. Just don't take any chances. Keep your eyes open. And make sure that the windows and doors are locked."

"Okay, okay. I'm sure it will all be fine. But let me reassure you, I'll be careful."

"You'd better be, young lady. A guy could get used to you, you know."

"I know…kind of like a girl getting used to you."

Steve sighed with that. "When can I see you again?"

"I've got a pretty tight work schedule this week. How about Friday?"

"I don't know if I could swing a second Friday off like that. How about Thursday?"

"I have to work the next morning, but sure. Let's do an early dinner out in your area." She calculated that perhaps they could go by his apartment after dinner for some time alone.

"Okay, babe. Can I pick you up at home?"

"Sure, make it around six."

"See you then."

As Connie hung up the phone, she smiled and thought of Steve. She thought of their time Friday night and also of what could happen on their next date later that week. "Yes, I can definitely get used to you…again." She left her room and joined her family.

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As Connie left for work the next morning, she drove past the man on the park bench reading his paper. He looked at the car as it past and made note of the time. Then he watched as the remaining members of her family left to run errands, go to school or to work. He would be back around that afternoon, monitoring their return.

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**Thursday night**

Steve unlocked the door to his apartment and made way for Connie's entrance. As soon as he shut the door, he took her hand and drew her close to him.

"I have waited all week to have you in my arms," Steve said. He couldn't believe words like this were coming out of his mouth.

"Me, too," Connie sighed as she put her arms around his neck. She parted her lips and was rewarded with a long engaging kiss.

As he kissed her, he slowly maneuvered her to the sofa. He sat her down on his lap never once leaving the embrace.

With his left hand free to explore, she moaned softly as he stroked her breast gently. Her sweater felt so soft to his touch. From there, he moved his hand down to the inside of her thigh. Normally, he would have continued blissfully with no interruptions as long as she would allow, but at this point he stopped and ran his hand through her hair.

"You're so beautiful, Connie. I know we did this the other night, but I want to make sure that this is okay. I don't want to rush this with you."

"You had better not stop, Mr. Keller. You know you are not the only one that waited patiently through the week." She went back to kissing him. "You know what else?"

"What?"

"You talk too much." And with that she promptly stood and took him by the hand.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled and they closed the door to his bedroom.

Two seconds later, he ran into his kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting the phone in the fridge. Can't hear it when it's in there. No interruptions." He gave her a devilish grin as he returned to the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks to my SOSF buddies for their continued support. Also thanks to a couple of new readers outside of the US for their messages. I really appreciate it!

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Steve and Connie pulled up to her driveway just after 11pm.

"Do you think your dad might be awake? I'd like to speak with him."

Connie grinned. "Oh…why?"

Steve chuckled. "It's not anything between us. I just want him to be aware of what's going on in the neighborhood. He's got you, your sister and his wife to think about."

"Really, Steve. You worry way too much."

"Babe, someone has been killed and a five year old is now an orphan."

"But it could have been her husband, you know. I mean it's sad no matter what, but it may not be at all random."

"He needs to know. And yeah, I can mention it to him that we're not definite. But if you were my wife," Steve paused, "or my daughter, I'd want to know."

"Okay. The light is on so he may be up. Let's go in."

Steve reached over and gave her a kiss. Then he looked down and whispered, "I love you, you know."

"Oh, Steve! I love you, too."

"If anything in this world were to happen to you, I would be devastated. And if anything were to happen and I could have done something to prevent it, then I would never be able to forgive myself. Letting your father know what's going on is the least I can do."

She reached over and hugged him. "How did I get so lucky to get you back into my life?"

Steve kissed her one more time before they went into the house.

King watched them from his mother's car.

_I thought I recognized that police officer. He's the boyfriend of the hot doll that lives in the Mathers house. She's been on my target list since I first saw her. Her being with him will make it more of a challenge, but that's all a part of the game. To get to her, I may need to find out more about him._

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In the house, Steve did not relish the idea of having this talk with Professor Mathers, but he knew it was necessary. He waited in the front sitting room while Connie got him from his study.

"Young man, I'm not quite sure what this is about, but it takes a lot of nerve for you to come here at this late hour wanting to talk to me."

"Sir, what I have to say to you has nothing to do with Connie and me. I want you to be aware of something that occurred in your neighborhood here."

"Go on."

"Yes, sir. There was a murder a week ago not far away from here."

"Yes, we heard it was the husband and that he killed himself."

"Sir, that has not been the official ruling. There was simply no physical evidence to link the husband to her murder. And in his suicide note, there was no confession…just how much he loved his wife and child. Normally, in suicide notes, you would expect to see a confession of the truth. It's almost like a request for absolution. We interviewed Mr. Nelson the day after the murder, and quite frankly, I couldn't say that he exhibited what I would consider guilty behaviors. At least not guilty of murder."

"You wouldn't? What makes you so certain?"

"Frankly, I'm not, but I've been in this job three years now and have interviewed more than my share of suspects. This man spoke as if he had nothing to hide."

"But we had heard about his business dealings and the fact they were broke."

"A lot of people go broke or do illegal things. But most of them don't kill. Mr. Nelson had no record of violence, let alone a previous criminal history."

"So why are you telling me this?"

"I will stick to the facts, Professor. Someone in this neighborhood was convicted of murdering a young woman twenty years ago. That same individual was released from prison three weeks ago and returned here. There are three possibilities: One: he did it; Two: someone who knows him did it to make it look like he did it; or Three: he had nothing to do with it."

"I follow you. There is a possibility that the killer is on the loose still."

"If I were a father and a husband in this neighborhood, I would want to know what was going on and I would do what I could to keep the women I love safe. That's all."

Professor Mathers looked down at the floor and nodded his head.

"I care for Connie, sir. I care for her a lot. I don't know how things will end up with us, but beyond all possibilities, I want her to be safe. I want her sister to be safe. And while I am not high on her list of favorite people, I want your wife to remain safe."

With that Professor Mathers chuckled. "Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it. Please keep me informed."

"I will, sir. Please keep the doors and windows locked. I'd also make sure the place was well lit. And please make sure that the women aren't home alone - at least not individually. I don't mean to worry or frighten you."

"Have you mentioned this to Connie?"

"Yes, sir. She was not all together happy about me talking to you. She says I worry too much."

"Women. Can't please them no matter what we do," Professor Mathers responded with a smile. "Thanks, Steve."

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The next morning, Steve came into the station later than usual. After all, he didn't get home until after midnight and even with that, he had a hard time falling asleep. He couldn't get Connie out of his mind and he also couldn't stop worrying about her well being.

Still, that wasn't the reason for his tardiness. And so he lay in wait as he anticipated an opening remark from his boss.

"Nice of you to join me today, Buddy boy. A late night with sweet Connie?" Mike did not disappoint.

Steve ignored the bait. "I've been over to see the coroner this morning. I had this thought. You see, Mr. Nelson was a thin man. So I asked the coroner if the bruising around Mrs. Nelson's neck could have been caused by someone with smaller hands or if he could tell if it came from a larger man."

"And?" Mike was intrigued and once again, impressed by his junior partner.

"He's checking on it right now. It may not prove King committed the crime, but it may clear Mr. Nelson."

Mike nodded.

"Mike, I have to tell you that I'm worried. If King is really back to his old ways, the community won't be safe until we get him. But we can't get him unless we have proof."

"I'm with you 100% Buddy-boy. Good work."

"Oh yeah, and Connie says 'hello'," Steve said with a wink.

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Bernie King sat in his carriage house. He watched the neighborhood over the last few weeks without detection from other residents. From his observations, he created his target list of victims. He considered these women as his 'special projects'. He spent his time finding out about their habits and when they were alone. It was now his obsession.

The first one on his list was Cathy Nelson. The other four women he selected were of similar build and look. The last would be used as his special message to the world.

He catalogued these women's lives. In addition to his recordkeeping, he had taken pictures of the women, their cars and any spouses or children. He had their work addresses if they were employed and the names of any clubs or activities he noted as he followed them. He knew where they bought their groceries and had their hair done.

It was time to move on to victim number two.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve sat at his desk, staring into space. Mike came in from a meeting with Rudy and noticed the young man was very distracted.

"Steve, did you hear from the coroner's office?" Mike asked, hoping to snap his partner into reality.

Steve was quiet for a moment and then sighed deeply. "Yeah. I did." He stood up, rubbed the back of his neck and circled to face Mike.

"The coroner was able to take hand measurements from Garrett Nelson. There is no way that those hands made the same bruising marks on Mrs. Nelson's neck." Steve looked down and then continued.

"There's more. She had been sexually assaulted." Steve was quiet. "Given the findings, the coroner determined that the assault occurred after strangulation. The sick bastard."

Mike swallowed hard, looking away. He walked into his office and motioned for Steve to come in and sit.

"Mike, we need to go through the Nelson house again. We need to get prints or tracks or something."

"Okay, let's go through it again. Let's check with Gary Larson, King's PO too. The second that guy steps out of line, I want to know."

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As the detectives drove to Pacific Heights, dispatch radioed. "Inspectors 1-8, please see the man at 3245 Oakdale. Possible 2-0-7."

"Oakdale is in Pacific Heights. Let's hope he hasn't struck again," Steve said quietly.

Mike threw the magnetic police light on the roof and started the siren.

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They pulled up to a house on the corner, only about two blocks away from the Nelsons. Officer Thompson met Mike and Steve in the driveway.

"Her husband came home and found her in the garage. She was wrapped in a sheet and strangled. She was also stabbed in the stomach," the uniformed policeman said.

"Damn," Steve said.

"Alright, let's see what we have," Mike added.

As they made their way into the garage, they saw the body of Pamela Green, age 27. She was the young wife of a commodity trader downtown. Steve brought out his notebook and started writing. He noted the position of the body and the injuries. He did not need to make a note that she was petite and blonde. That was a fact he wouldn't forget.

"Let's go see the husband, Steve."

Mr. Green sat in the living room, his head buried in his hands. He was surrounded by a home that his wife lovingly created.

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant Stone of Homicide. This is my partner, Inspector Keller. May we talk to you for a few minutes?"

Mr. Green looked up, glassy eyed from tears. "Of course. I just can't believe it. Not my Pammy. She meant everything to me."

"Sir, can you tell us when you came home?"

"Yes, it was around 4pm. I left work early - we had a social engagement this evening," he choked as he said that. "I guess we don't now. Oh, Pam…"

Steve interjected, "Did you happen to notice anyone as you came home? Anyone outside walking or running away?"

"No, I didn't."

"Have you walked around the house yet? Did you notice any windows open or anything amiss?"

"I haven't done that yet."

"Let's do that now, sir. Perhaps we can see if we can identify the point of entry or exit. I'm assuming it may have been the garage, but you never know."

As the men circled through the house, most everything seemed to be in order until they came to the master bedroom.

"This drawer is open. That's odd. It's where we store the sheets," Mr. Green thought for a moment. "Oh, no! She was wrapped in a sheet, wasn't she?" Green began to sob.

Mike yelled to the investigators. "In here! Take prints around this drawer and the door knob. Our suspect may have taken the sheet from this room to wrap Mrs. Green."

Steve waited until Mr. Green settled down before proceeding. "Sir, did your wife mention anything unusual lately? Had she come across anyone that she felt was suspicious or threatening?"

"No. Wait a minute, the other day, she did mention there was a man sitting in a car outside of our house for a while."

"Did she describe the car?" Steve asked.

"No - she just mentioned that there was a man sitting in a car for about an hour one morning."

"Nothing else? Did she mention the color of the car?" Mike inquired.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Mr. Green, we're sorry that you are going through this," Steve consoled. "Here, this is my card. Please, after you've given yourself some time, call if you can think of anything else."

"Yes, I will. Thank you."

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Mike and Steve concluded their investigation and drove away from the Green residence. Instead of taking the direct way out of the subdivision, Steve turned the corner three blocks away.

"Where are we going?" Mike asked.

"To the Mathers. I'm sorry, Mike, but I want them to know."

"Okay, Buddy boy, I understand. Do you want me to go with you?"

"Yes, I would."

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Professor Mathers greeted Steve and Mike at the door.

"Professor, this is Lieutenant Stone, I work for him in the Homicide unit. I wanted to come by and give you an update on what we discussed the other evening."

"Lieutenant," the professor said as he shook his hand. "Steve, what is it?"

"There was another murder today. Very similar to the Nelson murder. We cannot draw any conclusions, but it's a very real possibility that these murders are linked."

"A serial killer?"

Both Steve and Mike were uncomfortable with the phrase. "Possibly." Steve acknowledged. "We just dropped by to ask that you be on alert. Both women were petite and blonde. I don't have to tell you that the profiles are close to your daughters' descriptions."

"I appreciate you informing me, but what are the police doing to stop this maniac?"

"Sir, there are no witnesses and so far, no physical evidence. That, however, may change as we proceed through the second investigation. They are taking prints now in key areas of the home. We are also doing another sweep through the Nelson house."

"But this ex-con you mentioned the other day…"

"Yes, sir. We have to be careful. At best, he's only a suspect."

"Will the public find out about this?"

Mike answered, "Yes, the fact that the two murders have occurred will be made public. I also imagine that the possibility that they are leaked will also be made public. There are beat reporters that work with the police and there are also press releases. This will likely be publicized both ways."

At that moment, Connie walked in the door.

"Hi, Babe! Dropping in for a quick visit?" she smiled as she asked.

"This is not the kind of visit I would like to make. Unfortunately, there was another murder in the neighborhood, so I wanted to drop by and let your dad know."

"Oh, no. Similar to the last murder?"

"Connie, I'm afraid so," Mike answered.

"Hon, just please be careful. You and your mom and your sister - you need to be vigilant right now."

Her father interrupted. "Connie, I think it might be a good idea for you girls to spend some time over at Grandpa's. Just for a few days until this clears up."

"Oh, Daddy, I don't think that's necessary."

"I do. I want you three girls safe. I agree with Steve here. We can't take any chances."

At that point, Mrs. Mathers walked in. "Connie, Grandpa has a large home and we can all certainly stay there for a few days. Perhaps by then the Police will be able to make an arrest."

"Yes, Mother." Connie looked over at Steve. "Okay, we'll do it." She could see the concern in her boyfriend's face. "Please don't worry so much, Steve. We'll be okay."

Steve nodded and looked over at Mike. He knew they had to head back to the station. He walked over to Connie and took her aside. The Mathers and Mike began to make small talk.

"We need to be going back. Please be careful, babe. I love you." and Steve reached over and kissed Connie on the cheek.

"Love you, too." she said as she kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her for a longer kiss.

"Okay, okay. Let's get going, Romeo," Mike barked playfully as he grabbed Steve by the elbow. The Mathers chuckled.

Connie giggled as she saw Steve blush.


	9. Chapter 9

The evening news and the papers covered the two murders, which increased the community's awareness of the crimes. A neighborhood watch was organized as word slowly spread about the son who lived in Mrs. King's carriage house.

Connie, her sister and her mother moved in temporarily with Connie's grandfather. They stayed in Marin County, which meant a longer commute to Connie's job at the paper.

Her opportunities to see Steve were fewer, especially as he increased his work hours to find the women's killer. Additionally, the homicide detectives' case load continued to grow. Steve and Connie did find time to share some quick meals and catch up on daily events. On one occasion, they met at Steve's apartment for an extended time during lunch and relished the quiet time alone.

In the meantime, Mike and Steve continued to investigate the murders. They returned to the Nelson and Green homes on several occasions along with various lab personnel and investigators. Prints were dusted, outside footprints were cast, and neighbors were interviewed.

The interviews were disappointing. No one had seen anything suspicious near the homes. There were no prints left behind; however traces of latex were found. The footprint casts showed a common shoe size 11.

Mike put a tail on King and had a team on surveillance near his mother's home. He knew that he would not be allowed to keep full time resources assigned for long, but at least it proved to be a deterrent as they worked through their investigation.

King appeared at this parole meetings as if nothing had happened. Larson questioned him on his whereabouts and contacts, but found nothing noteworthy. He and Mike knew that they could only go so far with their questioning unless an attorney was present.

King had calculated that this would be a time for him to lay low, so he played along. But once everyone was lulled into a false sense of security, he would strike again.

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Mike was restless at night, haunted by the images of King and the bodies he saw both now and 22 years before.

At the station, he was losing his patience with the lack of progress in the case. Steve caught the older detective several times, lost in his thoughts. Mike was trying to search his mind to find a way to capture the monster whom he believed had now murdered seven innocent women and terrorized countless families.

As he and Steve returned from another trip to Pacific Heights, Mike ran into Captain Rudy Olsen.

"Mike, can I speak to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure, Rudy," Mike said as Steve walked on to their office.

"What's the progress on the Pacific Heights murders?"

Mike sighed, "Not much. No physical evidence, no witnesses. King has made his parole appointments. It's gone quiet the last couple of weeks."

"Okay, Mike. I hate to say it, but at some point, I will need to pull those resources from King's surveillance."

"I understand, Rudy. I knew this time was coming."

Rudy thought for a moment. "Tell you what, let's phase it out instead of a complete pull. Let's keep a tail on King for a while longer. But as for the guys I have staked outside of his mother's home, we need to free them up. We'll still have the black and white in the area patrolling with more frequency than before."

Mike nodded his understanding.

"How's Steve doing? I know he's a nervous with his girlfriend in the area. Didn't she move in with another relative a while back?"

"Yes, Connie's up in Marin County with her family there. Steve's fine; just frustrated like I am. He's also worried that the killer will strike again. He's so cold blooded and calculating. I just get the feeling that he's waiting us out."

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A couple of days later, King became impatient. This was now a game of cat and mouse. He killed five before and wanted to do the same again. He listed and researched the ones he wanted to overpower and murder. He had no desire to draw the game out longer than it had to go.

He had noticed the two men that sat in the car across the street from him. He had figured them for cops. They had been there for days and he knew the reason was to track his every move. He also knew that the surveillance could not last forever. As soon as the detail was pulled, he'd proceed with his plan.

On the morning of the following day, the car was gone. Still not trusting of the situation, King packed a backpack and slipped out the back door. It was only a few blocks to Van Ness; he could take the bus downtown and give his tail and the other cops the permanent slip.

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It was a Tuesday morning and Connie was working on another special interest story at the newspaper. She made her calls and set her appointments to meet those that she would interview. It was a piece on a several schooners that were going to be part of a harbor show. While she enjoyed this type of work, she wanted to some day be able to do harder news stories.

Before she left her office, she called her favorite young policeman.

"Keller." Steve answered.

"Hi, Babe."

"Hey, Sweetheart - I was just thinking about you. You must be a mind reader."

"Oh? Well, you are on my mind quite a bit, you know."

Steve smiled. "So what are you up to? Are you still on the harbor story?

"Yes, I'm just about to head on over there. I've got a few interviews to do with the organizers of the event. One of the photographers will be joining me later."

"Well, you be careful. The harbor isn't always a great place for a woman to be alone."

"It's the middle of the day, silly. You always worry about me."

"Can't help it. So, when can I see you again?"

"I don't know. I can't wait to see you, though. When is your next day off?"

"Sunday. Hey, why don't we do something then? Let's spend the day together. We could go up to Napa or see a ballgame or something."

"I think I'd prefer Napa."

"I thought you would. It'd be nice to get out of the city for awhile. Since you are over in Marin County, I can just pick you up on the way, so that should work out well."

"I've got to run. I have to be over to the harbor by 11am. I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve whispered not wanting to have his colleagues here. She giggled.

"Bye!"

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It was just after 10:30, a quiet part of the morning, as Connie walked over to the garage parking lot. She normally parked her yellow convertible on the third floor and today was no exception.

She searched the lot for her car. She was never able to park on the same aisle and this sometimes presented a problem for her since she'd often forget which row she was on.

The garage was silent except for the sound of her high heels. Connie thought of the interviews and the rest of day as she made her way to the car. Suddenly, she overcome by a sense of foreboding. In response, she began to walk faster to her car.

As she walked up to her car's driver's side, she heard sudden footsteps. She was instantly thrown to the ground. She felt a hand around her mouth and strong arms around her neck. Her captor dragged her to a hidden area between the wall and another car and threw her down again.

She rolled over only to find King on top of her. He moved quickly, having rehearsed his plans several times before. Since he was in a public place, he knew that there was a risk of her screaming. He punched her quickly in the face to stun her. Within seconds, he had her mouth sealed with duct tape.

As he placed the first layer of tape on her mouth, she saw the cold black eyes that Steve had mentioned in earlier conversations. Her eyes bulged as she struggled against him, which served only to excite him. He put his right hand up her skirt and tore her underwear and hosiery.

"You thought you could trick me by moving away for a while. I knew where you were Connie. I followed you to your grampy's house. I followed you here. Maybe I'll go back and finish off your sister and momma after I'm done with you."

He laughed sadistically.

"Your momma and your daddy won't stop me. Your boyfriend won't stop me either. They'll be so sad to find you. Your life is ending today, Connie. I hope you enjoyed the time you had."

Connie was dazed, but knew what was happening. She began to cry.

"Don't worry, honey. I'll make it quick for you. And then after you die, I'll have a little fun before I leave. Your boyfriend won't be the last one to make love to you. It will be me."

His full weight was on the poor girl as he wrapped his hands around her throat. She fought him with all her strength, but she was no match. Within moments, she went limp.


	10. Chapter 10

The phone rang in Mike's office. Officer Terry Jones was on the other line. Jones was one of the first responders to the woman found at the parking garage near the newspaper office. From his sergeant's morning briefings, the officer recognized some of the common factors between the new attack and the two murders in Pacific Heights. The woman found in the garage had bruising around her neck and a stab wound in her stomach.

"Lord, no. A third victim. Is she at the morgue?"

"No, sir. They took her to St. John's. She was still alive when the ambulance left, but she was in very bad shape. I called you because of the similarities to the other cases."

"Do you have a name and address?"

"Yes, her name is Connie Mathers, and she's from Pacific Heights."

Mike went silent. "Lieutenant Stone, are you still there?" Another pause.

"Yes, Terry. Umm…Thank you. We'll be down to the hospital. St. John's, you said?"

"Yes, sir. But you had better hurry. She looked bad."

Mike hung up the phone and stared out the window. He saw Steve working on reports and didn't know how he was going to tell him the news. After a minute to think, he realized that he didn't want to put Steve through hearing the bad news in the squad room in front of others.

"Come on, Steve. We need go over to St. John's."

"Okay, I'll be finished in just a few minutes."

"No, we need to go now, Buddy-boy."

"What's going on?"

"I'll fill you in on the way."

As they got near the car, Mike said, "I'll drive."

Steve stopped in his tracks. "Mike, what's going on? Something has happened." He looked over to Mike and paled.

"I'm afraid so, Steve. It's Connie. She was brought to St. John's."

"Mike, what…"

Mike cut him off. "Steve, get in the car. We need to get over there."

Steve slowly nodded and got in. As they went on their way, Steve spoke again.

"Mike, what can you tell me?"

"Connie was attacked in the parking garage near the paper. She was alive when they found her."

"Same M.O.?"

"I'm afraid so. There was bruising around her neck and a stab wound in her abdomen." Steve turned his head and said nothing the rest of the trip.

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Mike pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room. Steve jumped out of the car before Mike could put it in park and ran to the reception area.

"Connie Mathers, please." He showed his badge for extra effect.

"Room 4."

Steve found the room and walked in. He was not prepared for what he saw. Connie was laying on the table, pale with dark circles under her eyes. A light blue sheet covered her. A red stain near her stomach was seeping through. There was a tinge of blue around her lips.

At her side, were her parents. One of Connie's coworkers had found her in the garage and had called them. Her mother was crying and her father was in a state of shock. Steve and the Professor looked at each other for a few seconds and then the young man's attention turned strictly to Connie. "She's been waiting for you, Steve," the Professor said quietly.

"Where's the doctor? Why isn't someone with her?"

"They have been. They are getting the OR prepped and will be back in a few minutes."

Steve walked over to her other side and gently stroked her arm with his hand. "Aw, babe." He wrapped his fingers around hers. "I love you so much," he whispered, as he softly touched her hair.

Her eyes fluttered. She looked at Steve and tried to lift her hand. "Don't move, sweetheart, you have to save your strength."

Professor Mathers looked at his daughter. "We love you so much, honey. We're here for you." To Steve, he said, "We'll be outside. Come on, Karen, let's leave them."

Connie's mother was hesitant to leave her daughter. She looked down at her and kissed her on the forehead.

Steve waited a moment and then returned his attention to Connie.

"Sweetheart, I will be here with you until you are back on your feet." He rolled the ER stool next to her and continued to hold her hand.

"St-eve."

"Babe, don't talk."

"I'm so sor-ry…you were right. So scared."

"Just do one thing for me, baby. Don't talk, but squeeze my hand. Was it one man that did this to you?"

She squeezed his hand.

"Did you know him?"

No movement.

"Did he match the description of the man we've been talking about, King?"

She squeezed his hand and tears began to form. She whispered, "Get him…don't let him…do this a..gain."

"Okay, no more. Don't talk. Rest. Honey, there's nothing to fear now. It will be all fine. The doctors here are good. I've been here before. They know how to patch people up." Steve was nervous and talking fast.

"It's too late…I'm just too tired."

"No, don't say that. You need to save your strength. Just try to be quiet. For once…" he tried to make a joke, but it didn't happen. "Please, save your strength and then we'll have the rest of our lives to be together."

"To-gether"

"If you'll have me, we'll be together forever. You are the one, sweetheart. You're the one I want by my side."

"I…love you. Can't…hold…on. Will…watch…oh.…" Her hand went limp and she closed her eyes.

"NO!," Steve panicked. To no one in the room, Steve said, "Doctor, we need a doctor…!"

Steve ran into the hall and caught sight of the Mathers and Mike. The sheer look of terror on his face told the story. "We need a doctor. Somebody!"

"I'll get him, Steve," Mike tried to reassure. With that, Steve ran back in with her parents falling right behind.

"Connie…Connie! Please come back…"

Her mother was crying and the Professor took her back out into the hallway. Mike came around the corner with a doctor and nurse following him. Steve was still in the room holding her hand. He leaned over and had his head close to her ear. "Babe, come back. We need to be together."

Mike entered and took Steve by the arm. "We need to give them room to work, Steve. Come on."

"Connie, please. Don't leave me…I need you…," he whispered as Mike dragged him away. "Connie…"

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Steve and Mike joined the Mathers in the Emergency waiting room. No one spoke. Mrs. Mathers was sobbing and the Professor had his arms around her. Steve was sitting with his head in his hands, not showing his face to anyone.

Mike stood by feeling utterly helpless. He pulled out a handkerchief for himself as he found his eyes were watering.

Minutes later, the doctor appeared. "Are you here for Miss Mathers?"

Shock had left them all speechless. "Yes," Mike finally responded.

"I'm very sorry. Her injuries were too severe. She lost too much blood and the damage to her throat did not help. While I can't tell exactly what happened from the surface, the blood coming from the knife wound was from the liver. She didn't have much chance. It's a miracle she hung on for as long as she did."

Connie's mother swayed at the news. "Let's sit her in the chair here and put her head between her knees," the doctor suggested. "I'll get a nurse. And our social worker will be here momentarily to help you with the next steps. I am so sorry for your loss."

Within minutes Connie's parents were ushered into a small room where the arrangements for transporting their deceased daughter to the coroner were being made.

Mike looked down at Steve. The young man never moved the entire time the doctor was there. He head was still buried in his hands. Mike moved closer and sat next to him. He placed his arm on his back. "Steve. What can I do?"

Steve remained silent.

Minutes passed. Mike patted him on the back a few times just to let him know he wasn't alone. "Take your time. I'm so sorry."

Finally, Steve looked up, eyes red-rimmed and his face lined with dried tear-streaks.

"It was him, Mike. Connie told me. We have to find the bastard that did this to her," He stood up. "That's all I want to do now. She deserves justice just like the other women did."

Steve was in no condition to work, and Mike knew it, but he dare not say anything.

"Let's get you out of here."

"No, let's find out what the police report says. Let's go talk to the person that found her."

"Steve, I don't think it's a good idea for you…"

"Mike, I don't care about me right now. I only care about finding her killer. I won't do anything out of line, I promise" he paused. Mike started to speak, but Steve cut him off. "If this were Jeannie, you'd be saying the same thing."

He paused. "Mike, don't tell me I'm in no shape for this. Don't tell me that I'm too emotional. This isn't about me. This is about her and we need to give this everything we have."

Mike nodded. "Let's go find Terry Jones. He's the black and white who was a first responder. We'll take it from there. I won't shut you out of this, but if I see you are fading or losing your judgment, I'm going to pull you. While you may not care about your personal well being right now, I certainly do."


	11. Chapter 11

Mike left Steve in the ER waiting room and called Captain Olsen from the nurse's desk. He had to let his superior know what had occurred and what his plans were for the next steps of the investigation.

"I'm so sorry to hear about this, Mike. This is a tough one. How's Steve handling it?"

"He's devastated, as you can imagine."

"He should go home."

"He's already said that he won't."

"Mike, you have to be careful on this. It's clearly too personal. As much as I like him, I can't risk the case getting botched because of an emotionally distraught boyfriend." Mike cringed at hearing Rudy refer to Steve that way.

"Rudy, Steve said that Connie ID'd him before she died."

"She did? Did she actually name him?"

"No, but she said that her attacker fit the description of King."

"Did anyone besides Steve hear this?"

"No, he was alone with her at that point. She died in his arms, you know."

"How hard that must have been for him. But still, Mike, you understand that won't hold water. A cop who just so happens to be her boyfriend is the only one that can give a description from a dead witness. That won't work - not for an arrest warrant and certainly not in court."

"No, but it should be enough for an APB. I want to bring King in for questioning."

"I know, I know. Okay, I'll get Lessing and Healy on this. We'll get the APB going. This monster needs to get off the streets."

"Rudy, do we know where King is right now?"

"No. The surveillance team was pulled, but we still had a tail on him. The tail did not see him leave the carriage house this morning, and his mother's car is still there."

"But with only one of our men tailing him, he could have ducked out the back," Mike observed. "Perhaps he caught a bus or a cab and took it downtown. Check first to see if he's at the house. I'd bet the farm that he isn't."

"I agree with you. With the ID that Connie gave Steve, though, we can pull him in for questioning. Our guys will check the house first. Assuming he's not there, they can talk to his mother. Plus we'll get a handle on the bus routes and the cab companies. We'll circulate a picture to see if anyone saw King this morning."

"Thanks Rudy. What I'd like to do right now is talk to Terry Jones. He's the patrolman who was one of the first responders. I also want to talk to the individual that found Connie. Oh, and we also need to get the same lab and forensics teams over to the garage that's been working the Green and Nelson murders."

"Okay, Mike. You got it."

"Rudy, let Steve and me handle it this way - gathering the information on Connie's attack. Get Lessing and Healy over there to see if they can bring King in. And if I see that this is too much for Steve, I'll pull him. "

"If it comes to that, call me. I don't want him to feel excluded. If he needs to watch from the sidelines, especially when we get close to an arrest, he can do it with me."

"Thanks, Rudy."

The Captain responded, "He's a good kid, and I'm sure Connie was a special girl for him."

"She was. They had dated on and off for the last year. But when they got back together this last time, I just felt like she was really the one for him."

"Such a damn shame. Okay, Mike, keep me posted."

Mike placed a second call to dispatch and connected with Terry Jones. Jones and his partner agreed to meet with him and Steve at the garage.

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When Mike returned to the waiting room, Connie's parents were discussing the near term arrangements with Steve. The Professor had his arm wrapped tightly around Mrs. Mathers almost as if he were holding her up. Steve was standing with shoulders slumped as the Professor talked. He nodded his understanding.

Mike shook his head as he thought about what lie ahead for her parents. The next order of business for them in this nightmare was to inform Connie's brother and sister what had happened. Then they would call other family and finally make arrangements for a funeral. And that was only the beginning.

Mike also noticed that Mrs. Mathers never made eye contact with Steve. Steve had mentioned the tension between himself and Connie's family, although it appeared that he had made headway with the Professor in recent weeks. Mike shrugged at the thought since none of that seemed to matter now.

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Steve walked in silence.

As Mike and Steve left the ER, the senior detective immediately approached the driver's side of their car. It was unnecessary to discuss any of the conventional arrangements between the partners, such as driving, logistics, and reporting in. Mike had the lead and his naturally protective shield was up.

He figured his actions were a given. He would handle the questioning, check with dispatch and Rudy, as well as the drive. And when the time came, the protective shield would also cover Steve personally. Mike would be there to ensure that the young man ate, slept and functioned as well as possible during such an impossible situation.

But with all that, Mike was keenly aware that he was the lead of a murder investigation and no matter how difficult Steve's situation was, the investigation had to be Mike's main concern and responsibility. If he could not treat it as the priority, he would need to step aside.

Steve knew this as well. While he allowed Mike to do the heavy lifting with the investigation as he processed the developments around Connie, he also knew that he could not permit himself to become a burden to his mentor. He promised himself that if he jeopardized the investigation or in any way became a distraction, he'd step aside. If it came to that, it would be difficult, but he knew deep down it would be the right decision.

For the moment, however, Steve and Mike would take it one step at a time. And the first step would be to go to the site of Connie's attack.

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Terry Jones and his partner, Officer Rowley, met the detectives at the entrance of the garage. They took the stairwell up to the third level. Steve wondered if it was the same stairwell that Connie or even perhaps the killer used. With that thought, he removed his hand from the railing in the event they needed to dust for prints.

As they opened the door to the third level, Mike noted that the garage was not enclosed. That meant the acoustics and sound would not carry well especially considering the nearby street traffic. If Connie had tried to scream or make noise, it would not have carried far.

They walked two thirds of the way down when the officers came upon the lab technicians and forensic experts already working. The car which had blocked Connie's attack from view had been moved by the owner; however, the technicians were able to check the front bumper for prints prior to its removal. There were now four orange pylons connected by crime scene tape where the car had been.

Mike stepped over the crime scene tape to an area by the wall. He immediately recognized the dark stain on the concrete as blood. Before he could check where Steve was, Jones spoke.

"We figure the attack happened between 10:30 and 11am. A coworker of the victim was parked nearby and heard scuffling noises over here," Jones pointed. "Since it's a sunny day, the garage is fairly well lit. He could see both the victim's and the attacker's feet from behind the car."

"So we have a witness," Mike stated. "That's a start."

"Was the witness able to get a good look of the attacker?" Steve asked flatly.

"Only from behind. The witness, a Mr. Carlos Diaz, said that the attacker got up quickly and jumped over the victim to make his escape."

"Then what?"

"Mr. Diaz tried to aid the victim and had another person call the police and ambulance."

"Did he see which way King was running?" Steve continued.

"Yes, it was over to the far stairwell."

"That may suggest he was on foot instead of parked in this garage," Steve calculated.

Mike added. "No one saw him leave the carriage house and his mother's car was still there. It's possible he could have taken off on foot - perhaps going out the back of his house. He could have caught a cab or bus. Rudy's having someone check that out."

Steve nodded his head. Up to this point, he did not look directly at where they found Connie but knew that he needed too. He slowly turned his attention to the area and quickly saw the stain.

It took every bit of strength he had to maintain his composure. He finally turned away, an action which did not go unnoticed by Mike. "May we speak to Mr. Diaz?" Steve choked.

"Yes, he's been down at the station and we have a detailed statement. We also have his address. I imagine he went home after our questioning. He was quite upset."

"Did he know the victim?" Mike inquired.

"They were acquainted, but he said he did not know her well," Jones replied.

"Okay, between the statement and further questioning, we'll get what we can out of Mr. Diaz."

Mike directed his voice over to the lab. "Let me know immediately of anything you find. I want you to see if you can match prints to those of a Bernard King. He was just recently released from prison and is our prime suspect."

Mike thanked the officers and began to walk back to their car.

"Steve, Rudy had Lessing and Healy go over to check out King's place. We've also issued an APB. With what Connie told you, we can at least bring him in for questioning."

"That's something, I guess," Steve looked down as they were walking.

"You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I'll make it," Steve said quietly. Mike looked on, knowing that there was nothing he could say or do to make his partner feel any better.


	12. Chapter 12

Mike and Steve swung by Jones' precinct station, reviewed the police report and proceeded to visit Mr. Diaz at his home.

A young man in his early thirties, Mr. Diaz lived in apartment only a few blocks away from the station. As the senior detective pulled to the curb, he looked over to check on his partner. A hardened look was etched across Steve's face. He did not speak at all en route to the witness's home.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine," he said sternly and did not elaborate further.

Carlos Diaz let the detectives into his apartment.

"Please sit down," Diaz pointed to his sofa and shook his head. "What a terrible day. I understand Connie passed away. That's so sad. She was a ball of energy," Diaz commented.

Steve nodded at the memory. "Did you know her well?"

"No, we crossed paths in a few meetings over the past couple of years. We worked on some stories that her boss was editing. Very pleasant girl."

"What can you tell us about her attacker, Mr. Diaz?" Steve continued.

"Well, I only saw him mostly from behind."

"In the police report, you said he was wearing dark clothes. Perhaps now that you've had some time to absorb it all, can you remember anything else?" Mike asked.

"Like what?"

"Like shoes. Or was he wearing a jacket? Did he have a hat on? Details like that."

"Let me think. Shoes…yeah, they were hiking boots. I remember that. He had a dark blue - navy really - jacket and work pants. I think the pants were brown."

"What about a hat? Did you see his hair?"

Diaz closed his eyes. "I don't remember a hat," he said slowly, "but I do remember grayish brown hair. He struck me as an older man."

"Why? If you couldn't see his face, how could you tell? Was it just the graying hair?" Steve asked.

"That, and also because he had a thick build, much like a middle age man gets," Diaz nodded toward Mike.

A smirk would have normally passed over Steve's face at such a gesture, but not this time. "Okay, Mr. Diaz, I understand. Did you see his face?"

"No. But I do remember he had a bag with him. A backpack, I think. It was dark - black maybe."

"Was the hair long, short, crew cut, what?" Mike continued.

"Not long, by today's standards, but nothing short like a crew cut. Lengthwise, I'd say it was like yours," he commented to the older detective. "But it was unkempt. Like he'd been in the wind.

Steve asked, "How did he run? Did you notice anything unusual about his gait?"

"Well, he wasn't fast. But he seemed to know where he was going. I probably could have caught up with him, but I wanted to tend to Connie."

Steve frowned, but recovered. "Did you see the side of his face, by chance? Was he wearing glasses?"

"Yes, he was - I saw a glint of silver along the side. I remember thinking they were glasses."

"Skin tone?"

"Average white male - maybe a little on the pale side."

"Okay," Mike recapped. "We have a middle aged man with pale skin and straggly graying brown hair, navy jacket, brown pants, metal glasses, hiking boots and a backpack. Does that sound right? What about height?"

"Sounds better than what I gave on the initial report. As for height, he didn't strike me as tall or short. Just average."

"Is there anything else you can think of?"

"No, sir."

"As he was running away, did he look back at you?"

"No, he ran straight to the stairwell. He didn't look back."

"What time did this occur, Mr. Diaz?" Steve asked. "The officers thought it was between 10:30 - 11:00. Can you help up pin down the time when you came upon them?"

"I left my desk at 10:30 but stopped off in the restroom. It was probably around 10:40 when I got to the garage."

"Okay, the street near that stairwell is, what, Market?" Steve asked.

"Yes, there's Market and then Olive is nearby," Mike thought for a second. "Okay, Lessing and Healy should widen their search of bus and cab pick-ups to include those streets after 10:40," Mike said.

Mike reached for a card and handed it to Mr. Diaz. "Sir, you've been very helpful. Please call me if you think of something else.

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Back in the car, Mike contacted Dispatch and asked to be patched through to Rudy.

"Mike, what do you have?" the Captain asked.

"We have enough of a description from Diaz to corroborate what Connie told Steve. For the APB, you can add: a white, middle aged man, short but not a buzz cut on the hair. Hair color is graying brown, wearing a navy jacket, brown pants, metal glasses, hiking boots and a black backpack."

"Great."

"Rudy, I want a search warrant, too, for King's mother's property. Between this and what Connie said, I think this would be enough for someone to sign off on."

"We'll get right on it."

"What did Lessing and Healy say?"

"They went to King's house and saw his mother. If he was there, she wouldn't say. She wouldn't let them in without a search warrant. It's good that we have enough for one now."

"Okay, what about the car?"

"The car was there," Rudy answered.

"Anything on the bus or cab angle?"

"Healy's checking it out now. I'll get back to you as soon as we get something. Oh, and I've posted an unmarked car outside, too."

"Good. Keep us posted," Mike said as he put up the handset and looked over to Steve.

"Thanks, Mike," he said quietly. The hardened look was still on his face.

"For what?"

"Pushing for the search warrant. We have to get into the carriage house and see what King's been up to. As sickeningly well executed as these killings were, he had to have been tracking his victims."

"Well, after talking with Diaz, we have something that at least somewhat supports what Connie told you."

"Mike," Steve asked thoughtfully, "Why wasn't it good enough when she told me that he fit the description? Why couldn't you have tried for a warrant then?"

"With Connie gone, it was hearsay at best. And you aren't exactly impartial, you know."

"Yeah, I guess. Mike, I want to see this through but I also want to make sure we are able to nail him for good. If you think for a moment that I'm holding the investigation back, just say so."

"I will. And right now, you're not. I don't know how you are managing, but you are hanging in better than I could."

"I'm doing it for Connie."

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The search warrant was ready in short order. Rudy personally pushed it through, so all Mike and Steve had to do was pick it up. They proceeded to Mrs. King's residence along with Officers Jones and Rowley as back-up.

"I told the officers who were here earlier that my son was not here. You need to go away. You are harassing us."

"Ma'am, we have a search warrant signed by a very good judge. We are here to search your property, your home and your outbuildings for your son. I think it will go better for you if you cooperate. You do not want to be charged with obstruction of justice."

"He is not here," she stated steadfastly.

"Then we shall search the premises. This is a very serious situation, ma'am," Mike warned.

The senior detective turned to Jones and Rowley. "You check the house. See if you see any trace of King or any idea where he may be. Steve, let's go over to the carriage house."

Mike knocked on the front door of the smaller building, but there was no answer. Mrs. King's car was still in the driveway.

Steve pushed the door and attempted to jiggle the lock to gain entrance. Mike checked around the rear to see if the back door or any windows were open but came up empty and returned to the front. Without a look or word to Mike, Steve kicked the door in with one swift and forceful move. The force of the kick slammed the door into the interior wall.

Addressing Mike's surprised look, Steve simply remarked, "adrenalin," and walked in.

Mike examined the broken door and jagged wood along the trim as he entered the carriage house. The senior partner peered over to Steve who was oblivious to his awe. The detectives entered the front room. "Be careful. He could be in here", Mike cautioned.

They checked the ground floor, including the kitchen and living area. In the dining area, there was a plate of food half eaten. Mike's uneasiness grew as he felt the temperature of the plate's content. Luke warm.

Steve headed up the stairs to the loft bedroom. The room was large, holding a bed, a couple of dressers and a large table which doubled as a desk. Steve walked over to the table and paled at what he saw.

"Mike!" he yelled.

Mike ran up the stairs. "What is it?"

"Look." Steve pointed to four files with the names of Cathy Nelson, Pam Green, Connie Mathers, and Marcia Buck. He took a pen out of his jacket and carefully flipped open the first file. There, neatly organized, were notes, photos and addresses.

Next to the files was a sheet of paper, numbered one to five. Names 2 and 3 had an arrow which indicated that there was later a change in order.

1. Cathy Nelson

2. Connie Mathers

3. Pam Green

4. Marcia Buck

5. Eleanor King

Steve felt ill. Mike swallowed hard and said, "This is it, Buddy boy. We've got him." Then quickly he noted, "Marcia Buck. We have to get to her quickly. Let's get Jones and Rowley in here and collect this as evidence. Be careful not to add any more prints than necessary. See if you can get a phone number and address out of Buck's file."

"Mike, look at the last name on the list."

"Eleanor King. His own mother."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Well, I did say that Steve is brought to the brink of losing control and this is it. A bit of a cliffhanger and somewhat salty language. For my British friend who likes things a little twisted, these next two chapters are for you.

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"Rudy? We're at King's….No, he's not here. That bastard had files on the three girls he killed. We found them in his loft. He had tracked and photographed them."

Mike continued, "He has a fourth file. Her name is Marcia Buck. Here's the address: 3259 Pinewood Lane. It's not too far from here.

Her number is 555-3492. See if you can call and warn her. I got a bad feeling about this. The nut job had a fifth name on the list - his own mother."

Rudy responded, "Geez. Okay, Mike - besides Steve, who is with you?"

"Jones and Rowley from the 7th precinct."

"How's Keller holding up? With King out there and the fact we're closing in, do you want to sideline him?"

"No, he's hanging in there and doing better than I would do."

"Okay, have Jones and Rowley stay at King's and I'll send another unit over for assistance. He may be heading back there. You and Keller go over to Buck's house and do what you can to locate this woman. She's not safe as long as King is out."

Rudy continued, "I'll send a back-up unit. We'll also increase patrols in the neighborhood."

"Oh, Rudy, send a lab team over to the carriage house at King's too, will you?" Mike requested. "And did we get any leads on the bus and cab angle?"

"Possible ID with a morning bus driver on Van Ness. A cabbie remembered picking up someone matching the description on Market around 11am. He had a backpack and was out of breath. But the cabbie said he took him eastbound over by Union." Rudy elaborated.

"That doesn't make sense. I would have expected him to head back home. Well, if he isn't here yet, this place will be so sealed down, he won't be able to get in."

"Yes, and we've got the APB on him and can release his picture publicly. There won't be many places he can go without being recognized." the Captain responded.

"Okay, thanks, Rudy. We'll be on our way."

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The Ford Galaxy roared through the Pacific Heights neighborhood to a home a half dozen blocks away on Pinewood. It was now the evening and the house numbers were harder to see.

"Over here," Steve directed.

Mike pulled up to the curb and was quickly met by the black and white unit Rudy had dispatched. The front room lights were on and it looked as though someone was at home.

"Lieutenant Stone, I'm Paulie Brown and this is my partner, Dave Hanson," Brown said in introduction to the older detective. The uniformed officers nodded to Steve in recognition.

"Good. Steve and I will see if anyone's home. You two search the back. I think the walls are closing in on King, and he knows it."

Mike knocked on the door of the large opulent home. There was no answer. He tried again to no avail.

Steve tried the door handle and found it locked but somewhat loose. "Allow me," Mike said as he threw his shoulder into the door. It opened. "If this saves her life, I don't think she'll mind."

"Hello?" Mike called out as the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Steve saw Hanson and Brown come back around front.

"Nothing," Hanson said.

"Okay, you and Steve take the upstairs. Brown and I will cover the main floor and then check the cellar."

Hanson and Steve nodded and ascended the stairs with guns drawn. Steve pointed Hanson to the first door to the left. Suddenly, he heard a creaking noise two rooms down and motioned to Hanson. They crept down to the room and carefully walked in.

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Mike and Brown entered the kitchen area and saw that dinner appeared to be in mid-preparation. A pot of potatoes was simmering with very little water indicating the fluid had boiled down after the cooking was abandoned.

They walked into the living room. Moving carefully along the wall, they checked closets and pantries along the way. Mike looked over and saw one of the windows ajar.

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The search in the third bedroom yielded nothing but raw nerves for the young detective. The day was interminable. The phone call from Connie was only a mere eight hours before yet seemed a lifetime earlier. He frowned at the thought. The day was a nightmare he knew he would never get over.

Hanson glanced over to Steve. He had met Steve on a number of occasions during the course of work. This did not appear to be the same detective. He couldn't describe the change. When officers were in a dangerous situation, it was normal to have a game face on. A somber look only underscored the professionalism and focus. Steve's face was indeed somber but his eyes were dark and his face was set in an expression that betrayed their earlier meetings.

Steve motioned to Hanson to go back to the first room. As they looked around, they checked the closet and under the bed but found nothing.

They heard another creak from what appeared to be the other side of the wall. They proceeded into the second bedroom.

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Mike and Brown made their way into the laundry room. The dryer door was open. Sheets, pillowcases and towels draped from within and spilled onto the floor. Mike swallowed hard and looked at Brown. He did believe that Mrs. Buck would have allowed the laundry to be left that way. His uneasiness increased tenfold.

After searching the main floor, they focused their attention to the garage and followed by a search downstairs.

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As Keller and Hanson entered the second bedroom, it was clear that this was the master suite. It was larger and had several closets as well as an adjoining bathroom.

They noticed that the bedclothes had been pulled from the mattress with half on the floor in a pile on the other side of the bed. Hanson walked past the entrance of the master bath.

"Ooof!" A figure from the bathroom quickly emerged in full force and tackled the unsuspecting officer onto the floor. Hanson's gun flew behind King and away from Steve.

It was clear by the glint of silver visible for a split second that King was armed at least with a knife and had access now to the fallen officer's gun which was only a short distance away. King flipped Hanson around leaving both men on the ground and facing the young detective. King pressed the knife's bloody blade up to Hanson's neck.

King saw Steve and said with a smile, "You. I know you. You're the cop boyfriend of that sweet Connie." His smile widened, "Oh, Connie and me - we had a good time today, a real good time. But I think you know that already."

Steve glared at King. Hanson was confused at the reference.

"Let him go," Steve said as he gritted his teeth. He tightened the grip on his gun which was now pointed at King's head.

"Not going to happen, boyfriend. And don't think about yelling out to your partner downstairs."

Steve squinted hard at King. "Where's Marcia Buck?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? I'll tell you what…you drop that gun of yours or I'm going to slice Blueboy's throat."

Steve looked at Hanson and tried to figure out if he was in any position to fight back and free himself. It was at that moment Steve saw the blood trailing down the officer's shoulder.

"You're not going to risk the life a brother, are you, boyfriend?"

Steve bought time to assess his options. "Why don't you tell me what this has been about, King? Why did you kill three innocent young women? They did nothing to you."

"Four…she's on the other side of the bed," the madman interrupted and nodded his head toward the bed. "You were just a little too late, boyfriend."

Steve was becoming ill again. He wanted to keep King talking. "Then why your mother?"

"Ah, yes, so you did make it up to my loft. I knew it wouldn't take you much longer…."

All the time King spoke, Steve was trying to figure out how to get Hanson away from King. _Where's Mike and Brown?, _he wondered. _Must be searching the cellar._

King continued on with his monologue.

Steve saw that Hanson was fading. The grip King had around his neck was tight and the injury to his shoulder was taking its toll. Steve didn't think that Hanson had the energy to fight back.

Steve's first instinct was to aim for King's head, but that could prove fatal to the officer. He could try to shoot King's arm, but figured that the risk was still too high to the injured officer.

King's right leg was exposed, however. If he shot his leg, King's reflex would be to grab the wounded area and perhaps that would be enough for Hanson to get free.

King continued still with stories on how his mother controlled him as a child and verbally abused him. He proudly unveiled that his plan had been to tie up the 80-year-old woman, confess all nine murders and torture her with the stories of what he did to the women. They were women that looked like her when she was young. He would then slit her throat, take her money and car and then vanish. It was payback for the treatment and abuse he endured, he reasoned.

With the decision of his next move made, Steve said lowly, "Why don't you shut the hell up? I don't give a shit about your problems. There's nothing you can say that would justify any of this." Anger was getting the better of him.

King was enraged. He tightened the grip on Hanson and retrenched himself in order to get a better angle with the officer. There was no doubt in Steve's mind that if he dropped his gun, King would slit Hanson's throat anyway. He knew his first responsibility was to get Hanson away from King.

At that moment, Steve had no choice. He kept the gun pointed at King.

"I'm warning you, boyfriend. Your police brother's throat will be sliced. I'm not going back to prison."

"Like hell…" and in a split second, Steve re-aimed his gun and pulled the trigger.

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Mike and Brown were in the cellar when they heard the gunshot.

"Upstairs!"


	14. Chapter 14

As the bullet entered King's leg, he screamed in pain and clutched his knee. Hanson seized the opportunity to break away and nearly succeeded freeing himself completely from the madman. Realizing his hostage was slipping away, King tried to recapture him by lunging closer. He still held his knife and was mindful of Hanson's gun, which was only a foot from his reach.

A second shot rang out and King dropped the knife behind him. The bullet struck him squarely in the other knee, shattering the cap. He screamed again in piercing agony. Hanson got completely away from the attacker this time, all the while holding onto his injured shoulder.

Panicking, the killer breathed heavily and rapidly. "You bastard," he cursed at the detective. "What have you done to me?" he writhed in pain with his stare fixated on Steve's gun. "Finish it! You know you want to! After what I did to that bitch of yours? I squeezed the life out of her."

He calmed for a moment and the evil returned to his face, "I was inside of her mind and body as she was dying. Think about that, boyfriend!"

Steve tightened the grip on his gun as the color drained from his face. His lips formed a tight line and his eyes turned completely black. Every ounce of spirit he had was now gone. While Hanson was relieved to be away from King's reach, he was disheartened to see the detective's transformation before his eyes.

He yelled for their partners. "Paulie, Lieutenant Stone - up here!"

"Go ahead. I can't see the knife or gun, but I think you have them within your reach," Steve said quietly. "Make a move. My shot may not be fatal, but I'll make damned sure you never touch another woman again."

He cocked the gun and slowly lowered his aim from King's head to just below his midsection.

The room went quiet. Fear overtook both the faces of King and Hanson. The uniformed officer could hear the other two men running up the steps.

Mike was first through the door. He saw King partially sitting propped with his hands behind himself providing some support. His face showed pain and fear; his legs and surrounding carpeting were covered in blood. Blood also speckled a nearby wall.

Mike shifted his gaze to Steve who stood stock still while holding the gun with both arms extended. This was the situation Mike sought to avoid. The last thing he wanted was to put his distraught young partner in a circumstance where he had to shoot King. At this moment, he was uncertain what Steve would do next.

"Steve…"

Steve's voice was devoid of emotion. "King says Marcia Buck is dead on the other side of the bed. Hanson's been stabbed in the shoulder."

King's eyes shifted back and forth as he began to perspire. Steve glared back.

Paulie kneeled beside Hanson. "How bad is it, buddy?"

"I feel sick, but I'll make it. Check for the woman."

Mike walked over and found the woman's body. There was no pulse.

"She's dead," Stone said sadly. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to his partner. "Steve, I'll take over here. You go call for the ambulances. We'll need more than one."

Steve didn't move but his stare was fixed on King. King's look of evil was now fear.

"Steve…," Mike said gently and walked over to his partner. "Did you hear me?"

Mike reached his hand out to lower Steve's gun, thinking that King had been incapacitated and that the action was over.

Steve realized what Mike was doing and said with a louder voice, "He is still armed."

That revelation took Stone and Brown off guard. King saw that as his last chance to make a move. He flung the knife that was behind him at Mike and reached for Hanson's weapon.

Steve quickly lowered his gun and shoved Mike out of the way. Mike fell over by one of the dressers as the knife flew between the partners. At that moment, Brown drew on King, firing once in his chest and once in his head. The deafening shots were followed by eerie silence.

Bernard King IV was dead.

Brown stood still, realizing that he just killed a man for the first time in his life. Hanson lay on the floor with a shoulder and neck injuries. Marcia Buck lay on the other side of the bed, his fourth victim in so many weeks. Steve was still in his own private hell.

Mike swallowed hard, absorbing the sight and then went downstairs for assistance.

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The ambulances came and took King and Hanson to the hospital. The coroner's wagon also retrieved Marcia Buck's body for an autopsy and subsequent release to a funeral home. Other units arrived to rope off the crime scene and wrap up the case.

Additional resources were sent to King's mother's home. One officer called the Division of Family Services to tend to the elderly woman who broke down after being informed of her son's death.

Rudy arrived at the Buck house and tried to find the next of kin for Mrs. Buck. The 30-year-old woman was a widow whose husband had died in the war. Her parents lived in Los Angeles and the Captain arranged for their notification. He also spoke briefly to Mike, who promised to return to the office first thing the next morning to complete reports related to the day's events.

As their part of the wrap up ended, Mike planned to drive Steve home. It was nearly 11pm. Halfway through the drive, Mike decided that the best thing for them both was some nourishment and rest. He told Steve that he would drive by his apartment to pick up something for overnight and then they'd grab something to eat on their way back to Mike's.

"It's not necessary, Mike. I'll be all right by myself. I'm not hungry, and I am just not good company right now. Besides, my car is at the station. I'm half inclined to go in and spend a couple of hours on the report just to get it out of the way."

"Normally, I'd say that was a good idea, but you have got to be exhausted. It can wait until the morning."

They rode in silence. Mike finally spoke, "Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"You haven't had anything to eat today, unless you had something for breakfast."

"Honestly, Mike, I have no appetite. I don't want to eat. I don't want to talk. I just want to go home. Sorry for being like this," he said sternly.

Mike thought for a moment. "I know I'm mother-henning you. It's been a very tough day, and I just want to be certain you are okay."

Steve spoke in a near whisper, "'A very tough day' is an understatement, Michael."

The older man thought for a moment. "Okay, let's do this. I'll drop you off at your car. You go straight home. I'll call you in the morning to see how you're doing. If you are up to it, come in and finish the report."

"Deal."

"Eat something, though, when you get home."

Mike dropped Steve off at his Porsche. He watched to see that he drove off safely and then went into the station to start the reports.

Steve couldn't feel anything and that confused him. He expected to be grieving or angry, but at the moment, he felt nothing but numb and cold. He figured that what happened today could be one of those events in his life that would serve as some sort of demarcation. "That was before Connie died." "That was after Connie died."

Once he pulled up to his apartment on Union, he felt some relief just to be home.

As he walked in, the dark apartment seemed cool and drafty. He turned on the light and the heat as he tried to figure where the draft was coming from.

_I don't recall leaving the window open. It's been so cold these last few days._

The draft was more pronounced the closer he got to his bedroom. Steve flipped the light on as he entered the room. All appeared normal at first glance, but the gently flapping curtain indicated that the window was wide open. He walked over to close it. Then, he looked at the bed and saw something odd protruding up from one of the pillows. When he lifted the blanket that covered the pillow, the young man drew a quick breath.

It was a bloodied knife driven through a pair of women's underwear into the pillow like a stake. A piece of paper was also pierced.

He looked at the paper. It read: _She would have been dead earlier, but you and her folks got in my way. You tried to hide her, but I still got her. There's no escaping me, Boyfriend._

Steve leaned back against the wall as his knees weakened. He slid to the floor. His mind flashed to what Connie must have gone through. "Oh, God - please take care of Connie now that she's with You." He peered over to the pillow, "And please make this madness stop," he whispered and closed his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N - well I thought 14 was the last chapter...but I ended up doing a 15th. It was either that or have a very long, two-scene epilogue. Thanks to all for your support! Reviews are welcome.

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It was late morning, the next day. Mike tried calling his young partner all morning, but the line was busy. The more he tried, the more frustrated and worried he became. _I don't know if he has the phone off the hook or not. I could have had the operator break in to the call, but I know I need to back off. If he was on the phone with family or other friends, I don't want to be interrupting that._

After a while, Mike decided to go his apartment to see how his friend was doing for himself. A disheveled-looking Steve opened the door to let the older detective in. With the phone in one hand and the receiver in the other, the young man said little by way of a greeting, but motioned his hand to offer Mike a seat.

Mike looked his partner over. He noticed he was in the same shirt, albeit untucked, and pants as yesterday. The tie and jacket were gone. Sockfooted, he carried the phone with the extended cord back to the kitchen counter. What concerned Mike the most was the continued paleness and hardened look from yesterday on his now unshaven face. He gathered that Steve did not get any sleep.

"Maya, Mike's here. I need to go. Look, if I don't talk to you before tomorrow, I'll see you." He paused the hear his sister's goodbye. "Okay…me too…you be careful. Bye."

Steve hung up the phone and went over to his coffee pot. "Care for some?"

"Sure. How are you this morning, Buddy boy?"

"Ah…I dunno. I guess I'll be fine."

"Have you slept?"

"A little."

"Have you eaten?"

"Umm…no, not really. But I just haven't been hungry. It will come back, I'm sure."

"You're still in your same clothes."

"Yeah," he said as he handed Mike a mug and sat in the chair across from the sofa.

"Steve, what's going on? I know this has been hard, but I didn't expect to see you like this."

The young man gazed across the room and rubbed his stubbly face with his hand. "Well, I apparently had a visitor yesterday."

"What?"

"King was here," he said with a sigh. "Here, I'll show you…come back to the bedroom."

Mike had no idea what Steve was talking about, so he followed him curiously.

The young man walked into his bedroom and moved to the right so Mike could get through the door.

"I came home last night and it was very cold in the apartment. I followed the draft and found that my bedroom window was open. Look what was left for me on the pillow."

Mike walked over to investigate. He was speechless. The knife piercing the underwear and the note had not been touched.

"It's Connie's?" Mike asked, referring to the underwear.

"He probably had it from the attack," Steve replied quietly and disjointedly.

"Are you okay? This is terrible. Steve, why didn't you call me?"

"I don't know. It was so late. You'd been with me every step of the way yesterday and I didn't want to bother you again."

"You should have called me. I'm here for you. Don't ever forget that!" Mike scolded. "My God, Steve, what did you do?"

"You know, I was stunned and sickened by it. I sat down on the floor for quite some time and just thought about everything that transpired up to that point. I can't get my head around the 'why ' of it. And I can't even begin to accept the fact that Connie's not here anymore."

Mike nodded and let the young man continue speaking.

"At some point, I must have fallen asleep there because the next thing I knew, it was morning and I was on the floor. And yes, I never changed out of my clothes."

"I'll have a couple of lab boys come by and get that out of here. I can't believe King would do that. But then again, when I consider what he _did _do, I wouldn't put anything past him."

Mike thought some more. "You know, when Rudy said he'd taken a cab to this side of town, I knew it didn't make sense. But I never did think he'd do this."

"Yeah, I was surprised too. It was almost like he tried to get to me from beyond the grave."

"He was a maniac, Steve. He was a psychopath - he wasn't going to stop until we caught him. But he's dead now. He won't hurt anyone else."

"He did so much damage. I just can't believe it. It seems so surreal. Could it be that it was only twenty four hours ago that Connie was alive?" he said as he looked at the clock on the wall. "Why did it have to happen like this?"

"I don't know, Steve. There are no easy answers, that's for sure." Mike sought to get Steve refocused, "I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning but the phone was busy."

"Yeah. I called home. I talked to my sister a couple of times already. I told her everything. She's going to come in tomorrow and we'll go together to the visitation and funeral. I think I'm going to go home with her after that. I want to get away."

"I can't say as I blame you."

Steve looked like he had more to say, but didn't speak again.

"Connie's arrangements have been made, then?" Mike inquired.

"Yes, I also called Professor Mathers this morning. He told me what they did yesterday after they left the hospital. The visitation is tomorrow night and the burial…" Steve suddenly stopped and looked down.

After a moment, Steve continued in a low whisper. "Sorry, Mike. I can't stop thinking about what she went through. I keep thinking if we had done things differently, somewhere along the line, this wouldn't have happened."

"Steve, you can't blame yourself. King did this. Not you."

"I know. Did you read the note he left on the pillow?"

"Yes."

"I guess we bought a little time, but what good was it? I just keep thinking how afraid she was in the Emergency Room. She must have been horrified when he was…," Steve paused. "You know what he did to her, don't you? You know, King told me what he did when Hanson and I were with him last night. That was right before you and Paulie got there."

"Aw, Buddy boy. You don't have to say it. I figured he did the same thing to her as he did to the other women. I'm so sorry."

"Mike," Steve said now with tears filling his eyes. "I just can't take it right now. I keep replaying what happened in the ER. I keep thinking about what King said. I think of the terror that she must have gone through in the garage."

Steve continued, "She didn't deserve that; she was so good and sweet. She had so much faith in mankind. Do you remember how upset she was about those prison escapees? She felt sorry for them even though they were killers. She thought they were a product of their environment and tried to get me to give them the benefit of the doubt. She would have done that for King, too. That bastard. She would have pitied him and tried to see the good in him."

Mike could only nod.

"I didn't deserve her," Steve whispered as he looked away.

"Sure you did. You're a damn good man, and I know she loved you."

"Nah, I didn't deserve her. I was lucky she loved me. Lucky, but so stupid that I didn't realize it. I even broke up with her. Just think if I hadn't…."

Steve never finished the sentence, but instead shook his head. The pair sat in silence for several minutes.

Steve finally spoke. "Okay. Look, umm, do you need me to come to the station to fill out the report?"

"No, what I need for you to do is to eat. You got any food here?," Steve grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "Alright, I'm going down to the corner and get us some sandwiches. I'll be right back. You are going to eat something or I'm going to force it down you. Then you need to get cleaned up and get some rest."

"Okay…thanks. You get the sandwiches and I promise I'll eat anything you bring back, Mike. But before you leave, though, can you call to have the knife and pillow removed?"

"I'll do better than that. If you have a spare sheet that I can use to transport it, I'll take it with me and put it in my car. When I get back to the station, I'll enter it into evidence myself."


	16. Epilogue

It was a day that Connie would have celebrated. The weather was warm and the sky was sunny. San Francisco never looked better.

A crowd gathered at the cemetery. Many people from the newspaper, former classmates, relatives and her parents' friends came to show their support for Connie and her family. The family sat near the coffin which was poised to be lowered after the ceremony. The crowd surrounded the family and spilled out beyond the sitting area and tent.

Steve and Maya walked up and stood near the back.

"You should be closer," the tall brunette said to her younger brother.

"No," he whispered. "I can't. This is fine."

Mike had arrived earlier and frequently looked around to see if he could find Steve. He caught a glimpse of the young man who was staring down behind his sunglasses. The older man made his way through the crowd to his friend's side.

"Hey, how are you holding up?" Mike said as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I just want to get through this, that's all."

"You should be closer," the older detective advised.

Steve sighed. "No. It's fine, really," he responded a little shorter than intended. "Mike, meet my sister, Maya."

"Miss." he said as he shook her hand. "Sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

"I agree," she smiled shyly. "But it's good to meet you finally."

Maya was older than Mike imagined. She had to be in her early forties, at least. She bore no resemblance to her younger brother. She was tall, probably naturally taller than he. In fact, with heels, she had several inches on him. Her skin tone was olive and her features were broader. With her long brunette hair and incredibly round and dark eyes, Mike quickly wondered if they were full blooded brother and sister.

She held her brother's hand in hers and had her other arm wrapped around his waist as the service began.

They listened to a pastor deliver an eulogy that spoke of a hopeful and optimistic Connie who loved everyone. Her heart was compassionate and her spirit kind. Steve fixed his glance downward. Later, friends came up to speak a few words and share their memories of the young woman.

Maya squeezed her brother in a small hug for support.

The service closed out with music. Instrumentalists performed a couple of traditional songs, "How Great Thou Art" and "Amazing Grace". Her parents also selected a pre-recorded version of "Ave Maria" done by an Italian baritone. But at the end of the funeral, in honor of Connie's fondness for the Beatles, three friends sang "Let it Be" a cappella.

It was during the last song, that Steve lifted his hand to wipe a tear. He tried so hard not to let his emotions get the best of him. His sister drew him closer and Mike lay his hand on his shoulder. A few more tears fell, but for the most part, Steve was determined to hold it together and succeeded. It was the hardest thing he ever did.

At the receiving line, he shook the hand of Professor Mathers. "I'm so sorry, sir, for your loss."

"And I am sorry for yours. She loved you and I can tell you loved her very much."

"Yes, sir."

Steve looked at Connie's mother and simply said, "Ma'am" and walked on.

He gave one last look at the coffin, reaching out for a quick touch. Mike and Maya stood back as their friend and brother paid his last respects.

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As the trio walked back to their cars, Mike asked if Steve was going to the Mathers' for the after service reception.

"No, I'm not. We're heading back now to where Maya lives."

"You're not going home first?"

"No, I'm packed and my stuff is in her car. I never planned to stay any longer than the funeral."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I just don't know. I can't begin to tell you what this has done to me."

Mike wanted more of an answer, but didn't want to push. "Take some vacation time. A couple of weeks, perhaps. Just whatever you need."

"Mike," Steve paused for a moment, "I'm not even certain I'm going to come back," he admitted.

Mike was stunned and heartbroken. Maya walked off to let the two men talk freely.

"You need time, Steve. Don't rush this and don't make any decisions right now. I can arrange for any time off you need through Rudy. I can get Lenny to talk to you, too, if you think it might help. Maybe he'd be willing to take a trip out to your sister's."

"Thanks," he said quietly. "But I don't want to talk to Lenny right now. Honestly, Mike, I don't want to be a problem. I just don't know if I'll be worth anything if and when I come back. If you need me to resign, I will."

Mike snapped quickly. "Of course not. You're grieving and you've been through hell and back. Please, just give yourself time."

Steve simply nodded.

Mike's voice became gruff. "You call me, do you hear? You stay in touch with me. Take a week and then let me know how you're doing. We'll figure this out. Is your sister in the book?"

"No, but she's my emergency contact, so if you need to get a hold of me, you can call her."

"All right. Buddy-boy, please take care of yourself. And call me in a week, okay? If I don't hear from you, I'll call you."

"Okay, Mike."

Maya returned and took Steve by the hand as they walked to her car. "I'll talk to you in a week," the young man confirmed. He looked very sad at that moment.

Mike nodded and stood there until they drove away. "You'd better. I'm not going to lose you like this, Buddy boy. Not like this…no way," he whispered to himself.

finis

**A/N - And so it ends with Steve leaving and questioning whether he'll be able to return after all he's been through. A sequel story is in the works, so please stay tuned. I appreciate all the reviews, feedback and support. Thanks!**


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